


So Much for the Competition

by stelthykat



Category: Cal Leandros - Rob Thurman
Genre: Descriptions of what happens at the end of Blackout, Gen, Rated for Cal's mouth and those acts of violence, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2745452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelthykat/pseuds/stelthykat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cal's thoughts on what he did at the end of Blackout. A short little introspective. </p><p>Imported from FF.net and tidied up some.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Much for the Competition

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from FF.net and tidied up. Was just wanting to spread some love about these books and saw that this section over here needed a couple more fics. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Niko had called me several times during the drive in the stolen car that smelled vaguely of stale piss and vomit. In his usual lack of words he'd asked how I was.   
  
"Okay", I supposed was both the correct and incorrect response as he had nothing else to say but a sound that wasn't a sound.   
  
It felt good and bad, right and wrong. There were no more Auphes or half Auphes, or fucking quarter Auphes running around. Just me. And that right there was enough to make me shake in both fear and happiness.   
  
Grant it I wasn't that broken up. The poor bastards were put out of their misery and put down before they could harm anyone. They were too dangerous to be inserted into the world. Too untrustworthy. Hell, one of us was enough; you put two gun slinging psychopaths into this world free of a moral or physical tether and it'd go to hell.   
  
So I'd driven on, back to Nik, back to New York, back to the same shit. And I'd left behind something, something that I wasn't quite sure I could ever get back.   
  
Killing had its place in my life. Killing could and would save your ass in that split second. Then again, killing something that had called you brother and fought to get out of a too small cage.... that wasn't killing. That was slaughtering.   
  
And some sick, twisted part of me; locked deep down inside by years of suppression and clinging sanity, _**liked it**_. And _that_ , scared the shit out of me. 


End file.
